


Draco Gets Lucky

by crisiskris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: House Elves, Other, Spoiled Rich Kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisiskris/pseuds/crisiskris
Summary: Dobby takes his duty as house elf very seriously.





	Draco Gets Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ki on her 24th birthday. Ask and ye shall receive. (I can't remember when I wrote this exactly but it deviates from canon after Book 6 so I'd say probably before that).

The first time it happened, Draco took in stride with his usual pureblood snobbishness.  It was only a house elf, after all, and it wasn’t like such creatures were worth consideration.  He was eleven years old at the time, and had just returned from a rather rough game of Quidditch with his many older cousins.  He was feeling quite sore and bruised, and complained to his mother.  She, of course, immediately sent him to bed; shortly thereafter the elf had appeared, a bottle of oil in one hand and a towel in the other, cowering before him.

“If it pleases Master Draco,” he stammered, “Lady Malfoy has sent Dobby to rub young sir’s back.”  He held up the bottle, bowing and scraping.  Draco read the label and saw that the oil was intended to soothe sore muscles.

“Proceed,” he replied in a bored voice, rolling over onto his stomach.  The elf had hopped up on the bed and begun the massage, its long fingers working over Draco’s shoulders and spine.  It never occurred to Draco to wonder why Dobby was so skilled at massage; he just assumed he was entitled to the best and allowed himself to enjoy it.

That was the problem, really.  Dobby was a little too good – Draco enjoyed the massage a little too much.  After about twenty minutes, Draco found himself shifting on the bed.  The soft touch and gentle strokes against his skin had left him with a raging hard on. 

Dobby astutely noticed, of course.  Without a word, he flipped Draco over and applied his oily hands to the erection, stroking and circling, creating a slick friction that built and built until Draco was coming all over the elf’s hands.  Dobby milked the young boy to completion and then cleaned him up with a towel.  “Rest now, Master Draco,” the elf said, bowing.  “Dobby is needed in the kitchen.”  With a snap of his fingers, the elf vanished.   Draco had merely rolled back over onto his stomach, sighing happily.  That’s what house elves were for, after all.

The next time it happened, however, Draco couldn’t rely on that excuse.  During his second year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had conspired against his family to steal their house elf away from him, and Dobby had gone to work at the school, a free elf.  When, at age fifteen, said elf showed up in his dorm room, a bottle of oil in one hand and a towel in the other, Draco could not shrug it off as merely his obligation to serve.

It was after a Quidditch game, one he’d played particularly well in.  Slytherin had won against Hufflepuff by a long shot, and he’d been able to cinch the win by catching the Snitch half way into the second round.  Unfortunately, he’d overdone it a bit, and hurt his back in the process.  Madam Pomfrey had sent him back to his room with a vial of foul smelling stuff that was supposedly a muscle relaxant.  He’d thrown it at his desk; no Malfoy was going to smell like *that*, no matter how much pain he was in!

He was half asleep when Dobby appeared and began rubbing his oily hands along Draco’s back.  Perhaps that was why he didn’t really say anything; in his semi-conscious state, it seemed only natural that a house elf had been dispatched to ensure he was made comfortable.  If the massage seemed a little too sensuous for physical therapy, Draco wasn’t really aware enough to notice… at least his mind wasn’t.  Part of him obviously was.  A fifteen-year-old boy’s hormones raged far more intensely than an eleven-year-old’s, and Draco had really sensitive skin.  When Dobby started working on the soft spot between his shoulder and his neck, fingers whispering along his nape, Draco just couldn’t help but be aroused.

This time, Dobby didn’t flip the boy over.  Instead, he reached down between Draco’s legs and let his hand creep up the Slytherin’s shaft, wrapping slick fingers around it and squeezing slightly as it pulsed.  Draco moaned into his pillow, pushing against the hand.  Dobby found a lazy rhythm and stroked up and down, up and down, stopping occasionally to tug playfully at Draco’s balls.  The other hand traveled up and down the boy’s spine, sending shivers along the porcelain skin. 

He lasted much longer this time, bucking his hips in time with Dobby’s strokes, lost in the sensation, before he came with a muffled cry.  Once again, Dobby milked him dry, then leaned over and cleaned everything up with a towel.  Draco rolled over, sated, and then sat up straight when the reality of the situation hit him.  Before he could speak, however, Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared.  Draco resolved never to tell anyone about it, and he never did.

The third time it happened, however, he could not simply let it slip by.  This time there was no excuse – Dobby wasn’t his house elf, and Draco wasn’t half asleep.  He was lying wide awake in his make shift bed at the barracks where the Dark Lord was amassing his Death Eater forces.  Draco’s arm still throbbed from his newly acquired tattoo, which shone a stark black against his too-pale skin. 

He was nineteen years old, too young to die, and too rich to have ever known hardship like he was being exposed to now.  Never before had he been on the bottom of any social hierarchy.  The adjustment was difficult, to say the least.  The fact that he was Lucius Malfoy’s son helped a little – his father was a martyr for the cause, rotting away in Azkaban – but it also worked against him, because some people felt it was their duty to ensure he didn’t get too uppity because he thought his blood was better than theirs. 

In fact, today had been one of those days.  Draco had taken quite a beating from his superior for questioning an order.  It wasn’t impertinence, really – there had been quite a bit of noise and Draco was only clarifying that he’d heard correctly.  But the other man had been determined to show that just because the young man was a Malfoy didn’t mean he could get away with ‘disrespect’.  Draco shifted in his bed uncomfortably, lying on his stomach.  His back was a mass of red welts from where he’d been whipped. 

At some point in the night, the elf appeared.  This time, he held neither bottle nor towel; it was just him.  His large eyes luminescent in the moonlight streaming through the windows, Dobby urged Draco up to a sitting position.  Without taking his gaze away from Draco’s face, the elf sank to his knees before the young man, reverently lifting his robe to reveal his penis.  Draco was already half-hard in anticipation.  Dobby leaned over and took the penis into his mouth, suckling gently until the erection was full.  Then the elf relaxed his throat and swallowed Draco’s penis whole, bobbing up and down, sucking and licking the shaft.  Every once in a while that perfect tongue would swirl around the head, and Draco had to bite his wrist to keep from moaning.  Dobby’s bony elf fingers worked their way down to his balls, and further.  Draco gasped as he felt one of those fingers penetrate his anus, pushing into the tight, hot space inside him.  He felt as though he was being stroked from the inside and the outside, with the finger penetrating him and Dobby’s lips wrapped around his dick… the pressure mounted and mounted until Draco could take no more.  He came like a freight train, gasping for breath.

Finally, the orgasm ended, and Draco’s frantic pants began to even into regular breaths.  Dobby sat back on his haunches and looked up at Draco with his strange eyes.  Draco held his breath, waiting for the elf to disappear.  When he didn’t, he finally whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

Dobby cocked his head to one side, as though Draco’s lack of understanding was puzzling.  “Master Malfoy tells Dobby he must always take care of young sir’s needs,” he replied.  “Dobby finds it is an order he cannot disobey.”

“What do you mean?  You’re free.  You’ve been free for years.”

“Dobby does not *want* to disobey,” the elf returned.  

Draco looked at him like he’d grown two heads for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding.  “You – you *like* me?”  He whispered.

Dobby nodded, fat tears hanging in his eyes.  “Dobby loves Master Draco.  He wants only to please him.”  One thin hand came up to stroke Draco’s thigh.  “Dobby could serve young Master, bring him pleasure, bring him anything, if only sir would come away from this place, leave all of this evil.”  The tears leaked out and trickled down the elf’s bony face.  “Please, sir, come with Dobby.  Let Dobby love and please you!”

Draco reached down and took the elf’s hands in his own, staring intently into the other’s eyes.  “Listen to me, Dobby.  I will come with you – but I have to plan this carefully.  You must go – come back for me at the next full moon.  I’ll be ready for you then.”  Tenderly, he leaned down and brushed his lips across the elf’s.  Dobby’s hand floated to his mouth to trace the kiss. 

“Dobby will return for his Master,” he intoned seriously, and then disappeared into the dark night.  Draco sat and stared at the emptiness where the elf had stood for a long time.  A plan was indeed formulating in his mind – this could be his chance to finally get out of here…

The next morning, Draco requested an audience with the Dark Lord himself.  The Malfoy name carried enough weight to get him in.  Prostrating himself before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he whispered, “Master, it is my honor to serve you.”  Draco worked hard to keep his voice from trembling – he had an opportunity, and he didn’t want to blow it.  No more sleeping in the barracks for him, no sir; Draco was on his way up!  “If it please my Lord, I may have found a way into Hogwarts – a way to get to Harry Potter…”


End file.
